


Brosca's Surface Adventures

by 26Letters



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Slow Build, rated for odd British swearing, there may be more if I can find it and clean it up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 01:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 4,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3832459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/26Letters/pseuds/26Letters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The surface adventures of Warden Brosca (in roughly chronological order). A collection of snippits and drabbles set throughout the game, detailing what happens when a foul mouthed dwarf is expected to handle the problems of every skyer they meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ignoble beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Bits and bobs pulled from a larger piece that bit the dust when my last laptop had it's great meltdown o' doom (there was actual melting, it was quite impressive); gathered together thanks to one elderly back-up disc and tumblr drafts. Any and all feedback is appreciated - I'm rusty as hell at this!

Ser Jory looked utterly scandalized as Daveth and the dwarf began to debate the best way to relieve a noble of his purse, the two had been making a game of pick-pocketing each other most of the afternoon.

“Don’t worry Ser Jory” Alistair settled next to the Knight, tone light “I’m sure they don’t intend to rob anyone at the camp.”

Across from them Brosca laughed, loud and distinctly un-ladylike as Daveth recounted the story of Duncan’s chase through Denerim.

“Well, fairly sure” eying the pair dubiously, Maker only knew what Duncan had been thinking.

“But they are no better than cut-purses” Jory whispered, trying not to be overheard “I had thought the Grey Wardens to be a noble order.”

It was the kind of thing Alistair himself might have said not six months earlier and the irony wasn’t lost on him, he tried not to be amused by the man’s obvious discomfort about his fellow recruits, instead opting for a more diplomatic route.

“Not everyone can learn their skills in the traditional manner and the Grey Wardens have always valued skill.”

“Perhaps” Jory grudgingly replied, sending an uncertain glance towards the others.

Alistair grinned, clapping the man on the shoulder “Have no fear good ser, between the wolves, chasind and darkspawn, I’m sure a pair of thieves will be the least of our worries tomorrow.”

“That is not as reassuring as I would hope.” Jory muttered, frowning.

Alistair thought for a moment before responding. “Well look at it this way…” giving him a wry smile “…at least they’re on our side?”


	2. Training, Duster Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair decides a little training might be helpful

Morrigan watched from a distance as the two wardens squared up to each other; shaking her head disdainfully she returned to restocking their dwindling supply of health poultices.

Across the camp Alistair grinned, raising his shield in a defensive position.

“Okay, now attack me.”

Brosca eyed him suspiciously. “Are you sun touched or something?”

“Humour me.”

“Right, fine.” She charged towards him yelling loudly, mace swinging around for the initial blow; and missed completely when Alistair neatly sidestepped, bringing his sword around to tap her on the back.

“Want to try that again?” he asked. Brosca glared at him in response, getting to her feet.

“Not like I’ve got anything better to do.” she grumbled, stomping back to the edge of the clearing.

The second charge met with similar results, Alistair’s shield blocking her swing as his sword came around to touch her neck. “You have to keep your guard up more.” he admonished, pulling his sword back.

“My what?”

“Your guard,” he gestured “the thing that stops other people making holes in you. Your style’s all attack.”

“Skyer, when I’m in a fight, the last thing I’m worrying about is style.”

“Come on,” extending a hand to help her up, sounding far too pleased with himself “if you hit me I promise to make dinner for the next week.”

She grimaced “That a reward or a threat?”

“You wound me.”

“I’m definitely thinking ‘bout it.”

Three rounds later and Brosca was breathing heavily as she once more climbed back to her feet, knocking Alistair’s sword away with her arm.

“Okay skyer, you want style, you’ll get it.”

Brosca charged again, dropping under his shield at the last moment and bringing her mace up with as much force as she could muster, rolling out of the way as Alistair crumpled to the ground clutching himself.

“I can’t bel-” Alistair trailed off, fighting through a haze of pain to wrap his head around what had just happened.

“A most effective demonstration I think.” Morrigan’s amused comment earning a scowl from Alistair as he struggled to sit up.

“Don’t you have a cauldron to stir or something?”

“Ohh how original, however shall I withstand such witty barbs.”

“Need some help?” Brosca interrupted them, fighting back a grin as she offered a hand to help him up.

To his credit, and her surprise, Alistair took it; climbing gingerly to his feet.

“You’re supposed to be a warrior, you can’t just go around hitting people in their… delicate areas. It’s… well, it’s rude.”

“Must be mistaking me for a noble skyer, Dusters don’t work that way.”

“Well, could you at least stop hitting me there. Please?”

She snorted “Aye, I suppose so.”

“In that case…” Alistair picked-up his sword. “Ready for another round?”


	3. Priorities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As wardens go Broscas always struck me as pragmatic sorts given their origin.

She had little to no patience left when the bandits blocked their path and cut them down despite the begging; too stupid to realise that two fully armoured strangers aren’t going to give in without a fight meant just stupid enough to try again once their backs were turned. Alistair wasn’t happy but Brosca was too tired, and definitely too hungry, to explain and instead set about looting the corpses.

“What are you - are you robbing those men?”

“They’re bandits, they’d have done the same to us” pulling a dagger off the bandit leader and looking at it appraisingly “Morrigan, have a look at the runner.” gesturing further back the road before shoving the dagger into her belt and moving on to check the man’s pockets.

“I can’t believe you’re, will you stop that, this isn’t what Grey Wardens do” Alistair moved to grab her shoulder.

“Is if they want to eat tonight.” Brosca responded, shrugging off his hand.

“I can’t beli- fine.” he backed off, hands raised “Play scavenger, I’m going to scout ahead”

Watching the exchange with interest Morrigan muttered something under her breath and rose to join the dwarf as she checked the remaining corpses.

“That fool and his idiotic sense of honour will get us both killed.”

“Probably.” Brosca replied with a shrug, holding up a trinket to examine before stuffing it in her pack “Least we’ll die with full stomachs.”

Deciding it wasn’t worth the hassle of taking their teeth she gestured for the mabari to follow Alistair. “Well, I think we’re done here.” wiping her hands on the bandit’s cloak and standing.

“Shall we?”

“Indeed.” Morrigan replied “To Lothering”


	4. Off with the armour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the top people over on nexus you can now start Origins with the Grey Warden armour from DA 2, but given how distinctive it is…

“Okay, off with the armour.”

“What!?”

“Your armour” Brosca repeated slowly, as if talking to a child, removing her own as she continued “Loghain’s got everyone thinking we killed your King, that makes us walking targets until we can sort this mess out.” Dropping the heavy chest plate and lifting the banded chain mail underneath to examine it. “Maybe turn this inside out, see if we can find someone, no still too fancy, none of the other soldiers had-”

“Please tell me you’re not considering selling our armour.”

“Listen skyer, ‘less you want to be worrying about getting shanked every time we walk into a town, then yes, it’s got to go.” she shrugged as she continued to strip down “'course if you want to keep yours we could always use you as bait.”

“An idea not entirely without merit.” Morrigan interjected from the front of the cave.

“Nobody asked you.” Alistair spat back.


	5. More than one way to free a Qunari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Wardens are more Warden-like than others…

Alistair followed her out of the cave, hanging back as she crossed the field and headed for the sleeping village. “What are you up to I wonder…”

“Sod this.” Brosca stepped forward, drawing her dagger.

“What are you doing?” Alistair hissed, startling her.

“I’m getting him out of this thing.”

“What, you can’t do that, the revered mother-”

“Can go hump herself…” she interrupted, muttering as she worked at the lock “…thirty sodding silvers”.

“No.” Alistair grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back from the cage. “We can’t do this, this is not what Gray Wardens do.”

Something lit in her eyes “That’s it! We could conscript him.”

“What!? No, it’s not something you, no!” he threw his hands up in frustration “What is wrong with you?”

Behind them Sten rolled his eyes skywards “Pashara…”

Brosca looked over at the sound “And now he’s awake.” turning back to Alistair, gesturing “Great. Wanna try for the rest of the village too?”

“You are attempting to free me, how will you explain this to the revered mother?”

Alistair crossed his arms “Yes, how do you plan to explain it?”

Brosca ran a hand through her hair “Hadn’t really thought that far ahead.” she mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes.

He opened his mouth to respond when a voice came out of the darkness, startling them both “‘ere, what’s going on out there? I got traps!”

“Bollocks!” Brosca grabbed Alistair “Come on” dragging him away “We’ll be back!” she hissed over her shoulder as they ran.

Sten watched them go “This land is doomed.”


	6. Manners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Wardens are more Warden-like than others…

It was almost funny watching a small woman attempting to intimidate the revered mother, had it not been the the two very large, very armed, templars drawing their swords that was. Sensing things were rapidly heading downhill Alistair did the only thing he could think of and grabbed her.

“No please, I’m sorry, we’re sorry, it’s been a difficult few days”

Brosca squirmed against him “I swear to every rutting Ancestor you lot hold dear if you don’t-” a large hand moved quickly to cover her mouth.

“We’ll leave now, sorry again.”  Bowing as best he could with an armful of angry dwarf before heading out of the Chantry, only releasing her when they were back in the town square.

“What in the void did you think you were doing in there!? Attacking a priestess, are you mad!? The templars were-”

The punch caught him by surprise, knocking him back “You ever grab me like that again skyer” she growled “and I’ll cut your sodding balls off.” stalking away before he could respond.

Alistair took a moment to compose himself before following her. “Look. I’m not going to apologise for saving you from being killed by the templars, but I am sorry I grabbed you like that. It won’t happen again.”

She looked up at him, considering. “Fine. Anything else?”  
  
“It’s just, well, you can’t hit every problem that gets in your way.”

Brosca crossed her arms  defensively. “Always worked before.”

“Maybe it’s time to think of a back-up plan.” giving her a weak grin “You know, just in case the hitting fails.”

“Okay let’s hear it.”

“That Sister, the one who asked to join us in the Tavern, maybe she could persuade the Revered Mother to let him go.”

“You want to ask the crazy woman for help?”

“She didn’t seem dangerous crazy, more ohh rainbows than stabbity stab stab.”

“Stabbity stab stab?”

“You know what I mean.” he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture “Anyway, we’re only talking about this because, for some reason I can’t even begin to fathom, you want to release a self confessed murderer to help us stop the Blight.”

“Have you seen the size of him?”

“Size isn’t everything you know.”

Brosca grinned “Your last girl tell you that?”

Alistair turned an interesting shade for a moment, spluttering his response “What? You, I, no! And stop trying to change the subject.”

“You’d rather leave him in that cage and let the ‘spawn get him?”

“No, I…“ he sighed, admitting defeat. "No.”

“Right then, we’ll go find the crazy woman, Ancestor’s only know how useful she’ll be, but it’s not like we have a lot of options here.”


	7. Camping

The scream is loud enough to rouse the entire camp and Alistair’s on his feet in an instant.

“Darkspawn?” Sten rises from his bedroll, reaching for his sword as Leliana hurries out of her tent, tugging on a boot.

Morrigan is already striding towards the sound as Alistair shakes his head “I can’t sense any.” That doesn’t rule out anything else though and the party move to follow the witch; there’s no more screams but the sound of barking gets louder as they near the river.

The sight that greets them however is something else entirely, the small woman they call their leader is on the riverbank, half naked and covered in mud, mace in hand as her head swings around wildly, tracking something as she shouts at the mabari.

“Kill it! Ancestor’s hairy arses, kill it!”

There’s a moment of perfect silence, Alistair notes, when the dog stops barking long enough for a loud ‘ribbit’ to carry across to them followed by a splash. The sound seems to break the tableau and Brosca finally notices her would be rescuers with an indignant squawk of surprise.

Morrigan is the first to recover, making a noise of disgust before storming back towards camp, Alistair turns bright red, spluttering something incomprehensible as he runs after her, followed by a grumbling Sten.

Only Leliana remains, smiling gently at the dwarf. “It was a frog my friend, they are not dangerous.”

Brosca sat down with a splat. “I hate the surface.”


	8. Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of headcanon on dwarves and lyrium

Brosca plonked herself next to the campfire, giving Morrigan a toothy grin. “Think I found something useful for you.” she said rummaging in her pack and pulling out a handful of rings and necklaces “But seeing as I’m not exactly an expert on magic-y shit…” she offered them up, smiling. “I cleaned ‘em”

Morrigan took the jewellery, examining it “These trinkets…”

“Yeah all of 'em have some sort of magic tied in, 'course I can’t tell what they do but I figured-”

“You can… feel the enchantments on these items?” 

“Can’t you?” Brosca asked, confused.

“Of course, while I have not the skill to enchant items myself I am familiar with the feel of magic no matter what the source. That, however is not what interests me; how is it you also know it?”

Brosca shrugged “Live underground long enough you get to know when there’s lyrium around, the stone feels…” she searched for a way to describe it “…different I guess.”

“How curious.”


	9. Tactics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playing bruiser for a crime lord’s usually not the best way to learn teamwork...

Brosca was having a rather vocal argument with Sten, there was a lot of gesturing from the dwarf, the kind that implied she was telling him to take his suggestions and shove them somewhere uncomfortable. Alistair nearly stood when he saw Sten’s fists clench, but then it was over, the both of them storming away; him to the outskirts of the camp, her towards Alistair.

“Stubborn arsed sodding giant.”

“I take it that wasn’t a fruitful discussion?”

“Suppose you have something to say too?” she asked, dropping to the ground near him.

“I’m not…” he gestured awkwardly “Look, I know I pretty much put you in charge, but running headlong at the biggest thing you can see and just hoping the rest of us can manage isn’t going to keep us alive very long.”

She crossed her arms “Worked fine for me so far.”

Alistair paused, rubbing his face as he tried to form a response that wouldn’t get him punched, or stabbed, or both.

“I know we nearly got our arses kicked today,” she admitted finally, gaze focused on the ground, clearly uncomfortable “but I’m doing my best here, you think you can do better then have at skyer.”

He sighed “It’s not that, you’re doing a good-, no complaints alright? I just think you need to rethink your tactics, start using the people you have more intelligently.”

She bristled “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I didn’t mean it like-” he sighed again “Look, it’s just, well… ‘Morrigan blast 'em’ isn’t what I’d call a clear battle plan.”

“Not like she can’t handle herself.”

“Except when she freezes me, which, by the way, I’m still not convinced was an accident; or sets you on fire.”

Brosca rolled her eyes “Ohh leave off about that will you, she apologised didn’t she?”

“Yes, I distinctly remember her apologising. To you.”

“Fine. What would you have done different?”

Ignoring the look she was giving him Alistair considered for a moment before drawing his dagger to mark out something on the ground between them “Morrigan’s a ranged fighter, if you had told her to concentrate on the archers” the dagger moved to point at their position on the makeshift map “the rest of us could have kept the others away from her, herded them into a group, something she could aim a fireball at.” he chanced a grin “After we jumped clear that is.”

They spent the next hour going through the days ambush as Alistair tried to explain years of training and study to someone who’d never had any, the pair arguing back and forth about their own positions and strengths when it came to the more dangerous types of enemy.

Finally Brosca sat back, contemplating the markings “Ancestor’s hairy balls…” she muttered “…I’m going to have to apologise to Sten aren’t I?” giving him a despairing look.

Alistair shrugged, offering her a wry smile “Probably wouldn’t hurt.”

With a sigh she got to her feet "If he kills me just make sure you bury me under stone, none of that fire nonsense you humans seem so fond of."

Alistair responded, bowing where he sat "For you my lady, anything" winking at her for good measure.

She snorted "Thanks..." hesitating for a moment "...just, thanks." And with that she left.


	10. Botany lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have a sneaking feeling Alistair’s a bit of a prankster, especially when it comes to Wardens with zero experience with the outside world/surface.

“What are they?” Eyeing the strange lumpy collection of things in Alistair’s hand.

“You’ve never had a- no of course not, sorry… here.” he handed her one before popping another in his mouth “See? Totally safe.”

Brosca gave the small fruit an experimental squeeze, starting a little when juice ran down her fingers. Watching her Alistair chuckled, prompting a scowl; she sniffed the fruit carefully, surprised at the sweet smell.

“Just eat it you big-” Alistair froze, free hand suddenly gripping his throat in alarm, making choking sounds as he fell to the ground.

Brosca let out a high pitched squeak, flinging the thing away from her and rushing to him.

“Don’t you sodding dare die on me skyer or I’ll come into that Fade of yours and drag your lazy arse back here myself.” slapping him “Come on!”

“Ow! Not so hard. Maker you do care after all.”

“What!? You, you’re, you…”

He grinned “Fooled you.”

“You absolute, utter, total… bastard.”

“Guilty as charged.” he replied, attempting to keep a straight face “And that’s royal bastard thank you very much.”

In hindsight he really should have expected the punch.

Alistair watched her go muttering curses strong enough to make a seasoned sailor blush; laying back on the warm ground he popped another blackberry in his mouth.

“Totally worth it.”


	11. Ancestors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Given how skewed dwarven society is I always felt finishing Orzammar was a bit of a turning point for Broscas and their companions, whenever it happened in the game.

Leaving the others to finish their packing Alistair set out to look for Brosca, the Commons were already bustling with activity as stall holders set up for the day; all traces of the previous nights violence were gone, Behelen was king, anyone who disagreed was either dead or had escaped to the surface. The treaty would be honoured and it was time for them to move on too. After checking with the guards he finally found her sat in front of one of the massive statues that lined the Hall of Heroes.

“Someone important?” he ventured, trying not to startle her. Looking up she gestured for him to join her before responding.

“Name’s Gherlon, started out a Duster same as me and got crowned king. Least that’s what the Shapers say. Me da used to tell us stories about him, how he came back from the surface and became king, first Duster on the throne.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Long enough for people to forget,” she said, a trace of bitterness to her tone “I used to sneak out here when I was little, when mam was drinking, when it all got, well, you know.” she shrugged “Some of the guards used to turn a blind eye to us little'uns, let me sit here for hours,” a ghost of a smile crossed her face then “used to imagine my da coming back like him, coming back from the surface to save us.”

Alistair tried to imagine the woman beside him as a child looking up at the statue, putting together the puzzle that was his fellow warden after everything that had happened in Orzammar and the Deep Roads.

“All I ever wanted was a chance to prove myself, to me mam, the nobles, all of ‘em; to show them that we didn’t have to be what they said we were, that a Duster could be worth something.” Brosca stopped and shook her head “Must think I’m daft.”

Alistair listened as she talked, putting together everything she’d told him about Orzammar, about her life, weighing it against her actions since they’d met. She’d spent her whole life being ignored, being told by everyone but her sister that she was worthless, that she doesn’t belong; he knows that feeling, he’d felt it in Redcliffe and later in the Chantry. And he suddenly thinks to himself that maybe there’s not much difference between a bastard human and a casteless dwarf after all.

“No” he said “I get it, probably for the first time since we met actually.”

Brosca snorted but didn’t respond, letting the new found ease between them settle for a moment as she came to her own decision.

“You said you couldn’t do this on your own, well what if I can’t too, you ever think of that?”

“I’m so sorry, I never realised… you always seem so… sure.”

She snorted “You think any of the others would listen to me if they knew? Stone save us, Sten would probably run me through in a second.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that, you don’t have to carry everything.”

“Who else is there?”

He took a deep breath “How about me?” giving her a wry smile as she turned to look at him “I know I pretty much dumped everything on you after Ostagar, but it doesn’t have to stay that way. If you want to talk or just, I don’t know, plot new and interesting ways to kill Zevran…”

“Still not letting that one go eah?”

“Well, maybe he’s not all bad.” thinking back to his conversations with the elf in question and how they’d helped him understand why she’d acted as she had since they’d struck out after Ostagar.

“Tell you what, you stop trying to kill him with a look every time you’re together and I’ll, well I’ll try not to be such a ronto’s arse from now on.”

“Pinky swear?” he said, crooking his finger.

She grinned, taking the finger and shaking it with her own “You’re still a very strange human you know.”


	12. Girl talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward conversation ahoy!

It had to be Leliana. Much as she liked Morrigan, Brosca knew the witch would mock her choice, Wynne would be too embarrassing to even broach the subject with and Zevran would be well, just too Zevran about the whole thing; that left the bard as her only potential source of information. 

“Can I ask you something personal?”

“You may ask me anything you wish my friend” Leliana’s expression bright and curious.

“You’ve,” Brosca paused, cursing her blighted self for getting in this ridiculous state “you’ve been with human men before, I mean you weren’t always a holy type right?”

“Been with?” the bard’s eyebrows shot up in understanding “Oh you mean intimately, yes?” she nodded “I have had lovers in the past, why do you ask?” smiling now. She was many things, but she was not blind. Taking pity on her dwarven friend she leant closer, lowering her voice.

“I am teasing, Alistair is a fine man, I am sure with a little, shall we say, guidance, he would be a wonderful companion.”

Brosca covered her face with her hands and groaned “Ancestors, am I that obvious?”

“You? Perhaps not to those who do not know how to look. Alistair.” she giggled now, light and amused “He is like a small puppy following you with his eyes when he thinks no one sees. It is sweet to watch.”

“He, well, he gave me a flower” fidgeting on the rock “and then he kissed me.”

“Ohh how adorable, our little Templar has more courage than I thought.” she looked at the dwarf “But then why approach me, it would seem things are going well, yes?” delicate eyebrows drew together in confusion “Unless you do not want them to, perhaps you and Zevran?”

“Zevran? Ancestors no, that’s definitely not the problem here, it’s, well, if things keep going and we end up… y'know, I’m not sure he’ll…” she made an awkward motion with her hands, looking anywhere but at her friend “…fit”

Leliana’s mouth twitched.

“I knew this was, just, never mind,” Brosca started to stand “I’ll get ready for my watch.”

“Wait” Leliana reached out, stopping her with a gentle touch “I am sorry my friend, I did not mean to embarrass you. Come, sit. Please?”

Brosca considered her for a moment then sat back down.

“You have been with men of your own kind before, yes?” Leliana asked.

“Sort of?”

“Oh my friend, I have so much to teach you.”


	13. Unlikely advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oghren actually knows what he's talking about... sometimes.

“So Warden, any ideas what you’re gonna do once you have all these armies you’re collecting?” Oghren’s question came out of the blue as they left Redcliffe.

Brosca grimaced “Hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”

“You got any experience leading troops?”

“I’m a sodding duster Oghren, what do you think?”

He gave her a considering look “Guess me and you are going to be spending a lot of time together then.”

“What!?” Brosca’s head snapped around to look at him.

“Don’t get prissy with me woman, I know I’m damn near irresistible but that’s not what I meant; leading armies is different from leading small groups like this.” he gestured behind him, at the others “Whole new set of problems.”

She sighed “Isn’t everything up here?”


	14. P.S. Send cheese!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Always thought it was odd that you can get a letter from Zevran and Leliana in Awakenings but not from Grey Warden Alistair.

_Greetings from the Anderfels,_

_As you’ve probably guessed I finally made it to Weisshaupt. I don’t think you’d like it here, Riordan wasn’t kidding about the cold, and the other Wardens, well they’re certainly not what I was expecting. There’s one, a mage, and I’m not sure but sometimes I feel like she’s following me, every time I turn around she seems to be staring at me with the oddest look on her face, it’s creepy, reminds me of you know who; if you suddenly find a frog hopping around outside the Vigil’s gates demanding to be let in you’ll know it’s me._

_There’s been questions too, about you, about what happened, although from the sound of it the First Warden’s happy enough with your progress in Amaranthine. Is it true you conscripted a mage from right under the Templar’s noses? It sounds like exactly the kind of thing you’d do, wish I’d been there to see the look on their faces._

_It’s been a strange few months, there’s not really much to do here when I’m not answering questions or patrolling and I’ve had a lot of time to think, about what happened, about us. I never thanked you properly for letting me go to Highever alone, for understanding why I needed to; for always understanding, and now I’m rambling, so I’ll close this by saying I miss you and I can’t wait to see you again; a Mabari is good company, but it’s just not the same._

_Love, always. A_

_P.S. Send cheese!_


End file.
